


Burn Bright

by HydraNoMago



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Actual episode dialogue, Adam is MVP, Alternate Universe - Police, Brunch, Cute, Fich Tacos, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Porn, Hero Complex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protectiveness, Rabbits, Secret Gifts, Secret Relationship, cops and robbers, hotdogs, they just want what's best for each other, they're idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydraNoMago/pseuds/HydraNoMago
Summary: " Steven Lim was a criminal. No matter how human his picture may be. No matter the alleged fact that he gave away his stolen loot to the needy. No matter how much Andrew wanted to catch him just to ask him “why?”. Why do what he does? This isn’t a life for good people.Steven Lim seemed like a good person. If only he didn’t have a death on his record. "A Cops&Robbers! AU where Andrew is a detective investigating a robbery gang called the Rabbits, in which Steven seems to be leader of.(Cops Andrew, Ryan and Adam. Robbers Steven and Shane; for starters.)
Relationships: Adam Bianchi/Annie Jeong, Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim, Keith/Becky, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	Burn Bright

**Author's Note:**

> "What if you write an irl Andrew/Steven fic?" 
> 
> "Ah... nah. Kinda uncomfortable." 
> 
> "What if it was an AU? 
> 
> "That's perfect." 
> 
> For my good friend who wishes to remain untagged, but sparked my will into writing this Cops&Robbers AU in the first place. Happy birthday! 
> 
> Title and lyrics are from the song "Burn Bright" by My Chemical Romance.

* * *

_Did you take it?_

_Kissed all the boys in your city lights_

_Did you make it?_

_Left all the stars in your city nights_

_Can you fake it?_

_I lost my way in your city lights_

_Glad you made it_

_We stole the fire_

_And it's burning bright_

* * *

It was the angry smack of papers on the edge of the lieutenant’s cluttered desk that snapped him awake from the damp mid-afternoon heat. From the next cluster of desks over, Ryan shot him a look of disbelief and a minuscule shrug; while Adam strictly pulled his lips into a frown.

“Godfuckingdammit!” A swift kick delivered to a battered chair; the lieutenant’s hands flew into his thinning hair, grasping the locks desperately. His whole face was flaming, red as tomato, and Andrew really should not have found it amusing. “How hard is it to catch these stupid pricks?!” The lieutenant turn toward everyone else on the floor, sending each a death glare. “And you fuckers, whaddaya do huh? Sittin’ on your asses all day, pushing goddamned pencils, that’s what.” He cleared his throat violently and spit onto the greasy tiled floor. Andrew silently sent an apology to the cleaners.

An officer in the corner coughed surreptitiously, earning another litany of obscenities from their angered lieutenant. Adam nudged Andrew with an elbow and rolled his eyes at the scene. It was not the first time their lieutenant had burst into a slew of curses, and the whole department could commiserate why. After the lieutenant had stormed off, swinging the door of the pen so hard it almost came off its hinges, Ryan slid across the room and sat down flamboyantly on Andrew’s own tiny desk.

“Do you think they’ll slip up one of these days and we’ll catch them in the act?” He asked without preamble, flicking idly at some crumbs on the desk. Andrew swatted his fingers away, clicking his tongue. “Did you hit your head again today?” snarked the blond.

Ryan childishly stuck out his tongue, continuing to flick his fingers. “I’m just saying,” he shrugged a shoulder. “maybe it’ll happen. Maybe all these robberies would stop when they get bored enough.”

Adam bit out a laugh and began to type, the clacking of his keyboard loud yet soothing. “Maybe,” he conceded half-heartedly. Blue light was reflected onto his glasses, and he lifted his headphones. “Maybe we’ll never catch them,” he said nonchalantly before sliding the device on.

“Well, I for one believe that these bastards will make a wrong move one day,” exclaimed Ryan, face bright. “And when they do,” he jumped off the desk, snapping his fingers. “ _when they do_ , we’ll be there.”

“Sure, Bergara. Sure.” Andrew dusted off the rest of the crumbs. He should stop eating at his desk, it was hardly good for his appetite; but he could never get away from the lure of work, the adrenaline of getting closer and closer to the culprits. Other than the thrill of the chase, nothing else required more than a modicum of brainpower, especially paperwork. “And one day you’ll finally hold down a date.”

Ryan let out a dramatic gasp and smacked Andrew on the shoulder. “Hey Pot.”

“Yeah, Kettle?”

“Do everyone a favour and shut the fuck up.”

“Only if you buy me a bagel for lunch,” Andrew deadpanned; just enough to make Ryan squint and point mock threateningly at him, then slink back to his own desk. Beside him, Adam’s shoulders shook with laughter.

Andrew spun around once in his chair, hooking his foot on the side of his desk to come to a stop. He looked at the messy sheafs of paper; at today’s newspaper with its bright headline:

**“INSATIABLE RABBITS** **STRIKE AGAIN!”**

* * *

The robberies started last year, in the month of April. Spring was still clinging to the leaves of trees, infusing the air with the breath of dying flowers, when they received reports of the first in what would eventually become a lot of cases. A bank in LA was robbed, emptied out of all its greens, in what seemed to be an extremely professional manner. The robbers were masked, not in the standard balaclavas, but in masks with the grotesque faces of warped cartoon rabbits. It was a clean job; they cleared out the tellers and the vaults; left no prints, no clothing, no hair; hurt no one. By the time the force was on the scene, everyone in the bank had relaxed enough to be angry at their predicament, and they took it out on the cops.

The Rabbits would continue hitting the banks in LA until July, then they fell silent; only to reappear in New York in September, Ohio in December and Chicago last February. The police were having an excruciating time trying to play catch up with these criminals and tolerate being ridiculed by all the papers across the nation. The Rabbits allegedly were the chivalrous Robin Hood type, distributing money to the poor, but this was never proven and anyone whom the cops interviewed denied being in the know. None of the numbers on the banknotes matched up either.

In what was an almost impossible case which the commissioner himself felt like giving up on; came a ray of light. Someone messed up, and on the day the Rabbits were supposed to empty a bank in Chicago; another gang of robbers had shown up. All in all, the casualties numbered nine; with eight criminals and one civilian. She was barely ten years old.

When brought in for questioning later, the mother of the child with her broken sobs and broken heart would howl a name: Steven Lim.

No one would hear anything of the Rabbits after that; until that very morning.

* * *

Andrew looked at all the photos and scribbled notes pinned onto the board, a mug of lukewarm coffee in hand. In the upper left corner of the very full board was the face of Steven Lim with his cherubic smile and dark eyes, silently mocking them all. Andrew sighed and pinched the muscle between his brows, the familiar feeling of frustration welling up in him again. He and Ryan had been following this case since July, after the lieutenant deemed it necessary to add more people onto the team; but nothing came up. Other than the raid and the intense questioning the police force in Ohio did on Steven’s family and their home, there had been no notable progress, to everyone’s dismay.

He forced himself to look at the board again, eyes scanning over pictures of empty vaults; close-ups of dirt trekked onto a black linoleum floor; sections of walls broken open; Steven’s smiling face, slightly awkward, slightly confident, a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of look. Not for the first time, Andrew wondered how this unassuming and soft-looking person could be a notorious criminal. He was not like the others, Andrew could tell that much. There was something about him in that wide smile and bright eyes that inspired trust.

_And this is how you know you’re starting to become crazy._

Steven Lim was a criminal. No matter how human his picture may be. No matter the alleged fact that he gave away his stolen loot to the needy. No matter how much Andrew wanted to catch him _just_ to ask him “why?”. Why do what he does? This isn’t a life for good people.

Steven Lim seemed like a good person. If only he didn’t have a death on his record.

* * *

Andrew practically jumped out of the car while it was still in motion, Ryan twisting the steering wheel hard, tires screeching on the road. His heart was in his throat, there was fire in his veins. A robbery. The Rabbits. There wasn’t the sound of gunshots, no one hurt. He spotted Adam near the front-liners, fingers clicking madly away, eyes on a laptop. The officer nodded to Andrew with a soft grunt, “They’ve barricaded themselves inside. I’m trying to hack into the cameras, but someone is blocking me.” Adam was no amateur, so whoever the Rabbits had on their side must have been equally formidable. He patted Adam on the shoulder and walked backwards to survey the building.

“We’re gonna get them this time, pal, don’t you worry about it,” panted Ryan excitedly, looking up at the building with him, gun already in hand. Andrew hummed vaguely and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun. “You’ll see,” Ryan insisted, rushing forward suddenly to join the front-liners.

Something nibbled at the base of his skull, but he didn’t know what. Why would they still be in there? The Rabbits have always done a clean job sans that one time. Were they taking hostages? Was there something they didn’t manage to get? _Why Steven, why?_

Sweat already drenched the back of his shirt, he could feel the unpleasant stickiness right down to his toes. Something was off. Keeping his hand in place to shield himself from the bright light, he swivelled around, eyes darting quickly from building to building, looking for anything that stood out. Someone had hung out their laundry, a strange painting was left to dry on another clothesline, some of the windows were open at the office blocks beside the bank, a stray cat was nudging the foot of a man on one of the office balconies. Looking up further, he stared right into the startled eyes of Steven Lim.

The criminal looked flushed, hands halfway towards the cat at his feet before he turned and sprinted. Andrew’s shouts probably reached the end of the street, and before he knew it, his feet were already pounding up the stairs of the office building, having caught sight of his prey. His pulse pounded an erratic rhythm on his forehead and in his ribcage, gun and badge pointed towards no one who looked like the magnetic face of the criminal.

His feet skidded on the slippery floor in one of the glass bridges connecting both buildings and he cursed, roughly wiping the sweat off his face and feeling the rest cool disgustingly thanks to the air-conditioning. He flicked his gaze to the opposing bridge on the other side of the buildings, and there _he_ was. Steven was panting hard from the running, a hand curled tightly around a backpack and the other on a gun. His dark eyes were wide and cut through the layers of glass between them, staring right into Andrew’s own. It made the blond shiver involuntarily; he had to shift his feet minutely to get rid of the feeling.

He couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of his own heart in his ears as he raised his gun and steadied it at Steven. Steven, the criminal. _Even though he looks nothing like one_. He mentally shook the the thought away from his head, palms sweaty on the gun. Steven kept staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open; his own gun not raised.

“Ilnyckyj! Where are you? Andrew!”

His hands tightened and loosened themselves and he licked his lips. Something in his expression must have given him away, because Steven’s open expression of surprise closed off immediately and he brazenly blew him a kiss with a haughty smirk before sprinting down the bridge and out of the officer’s sight.

Ryan barrelled into Andrew, hand gripping his shoulder like a claw. “Andrew, you alright?” he asked with concern colouring his voice.

The blond nodded jerkily, finally putting down his gun, felt all the energy leech out of his arms like it was drained. “Fine, Ryan. Just fine.”

Ryan looked at him skeptically, but didn’t say anything. Andrew gave himself a minute to calm his nerves, to screw his eyes shut; to rid himself of the image of Steven Lim’s dark eyes, his open expression and slightly parted lips, as if he stopped breathing like Andrew did.

Steven’s hair was a pale gold in the sunlight.

* * *

The picture of Steven still looked at them from its perch in the upper left corner. Two weeks had gone by in a flurry of paperwork and questioning, search warrants made for almost everywhere in the vicinity of the robbery. That day, the force had a small victory in Andrew who clapped eyes on the actual figure of Steven Lim; but other than that, they had nothing. The barricade was a diversion; they raided the bank yes, but they also got into the offices beside it. For what purpose, they still didn’t know; nothing was taken, no one was hurt.

_Almost no one._

Andrew couldn’t seem to breathe right after that day. Why didn’t he do something? He could have called for backup, could have alerted the others; but he didn’t. His head was flooded with admiration and guilt, each jostling for the spotlight. Steven did a clean job after all.

_Steven._ When did he start calling him Steven?

Ryan didn’t bring anything up form the other day and was unusually quiet, hands laced together and torso hunched over his desk, manically flipping through papers and photos related to the robbery and muttering to himself, looking for things he might have missed. Adam was warm and unruffled as always, even offering Andrew his coffee (which was a special blend he shared with no one) when the latter was more stoic than usual. The lieutenant almost had a heart attack over how close they came yet achieved nothing, yelling and yelling. The status quo returned.

It wasn’t until the third week while two other cops were having a minor argument on the other side of the room, that Andrew noticed a small envelope on his desk. Wedged in between old case files he never got to returning and the latest file on the Rabbits; was a standard brown envelope. Cautiously, he teased it out with a pen, revealing it bit by bit. There was nothing incriminating about it, so unassuming and innocent it reminded him of a certain criminal.

There was a golden tiepin and a thin slip of paper with the letters “S/kw/L” on it. Andrew swallowed his shock like a bitter pill and ran his fingers over the pin. When he held it, there was a certain weight to it. Real gold. Flipping the paper over in his fingers, he traced the skinny scrawl with the pad of his thumb, relishing in its realness.

“What’s up with your face?” Ryan mocked as he strolled over, eye-bags heavy and hair tousled from running over it too many times in frustration. “Careful, people may start to think Andrew Ilnyckyj has emotions after all,” he sang.

Andrew rolled his eyes at him but didn’t grace his light taunting with an answer. He casually opened his drawer and slipped the paper in between one of his many, many notebooks; and clipped the pin over his fraying tie. The streamlined design of it was somewhat tasteful.

Adam stopped typing to crane his head over Andrew’s shoulder. “Where did you get that?”

“Somewhere.”

* * *

One thing he liked most about LA was the amount and variety of food he could get anywhere, anytime. If he craved hot dogs at night in LA, he would get hotdogs at night in LA. The truck he stopped by was not too far from home, and rented a small interior space next to a bistro for any customers who fancied sitting down at an actual table instead of devouring their meals on the spot. Andrew ate his first hot dog standing; ordered the second and sat down at one of the dingiest booths he had ever seen in the corner of the room. The lighting was dim and the table was sticky, but hey, there was a bottle of sriracha next to the mustard. He’d take it.

He was into his third or fourth bite, appreciating the sound the sausage made as it snapped crisply, when someone hovered over his table. The person cleared their throat, and Andrew made a vague gesture for them to sit-down. The place wasn’t packed, but it wasn’t out of place for a stranger to share the table, so he paid it no mind.

“That’s a nice tiepin you got there.”

Andrew didn’t register the sloppy drop of his hotdog, but he did register the pair of dark eyes in front of him. He had a hand on his gun, but Steven put both his hands in front of him; a silent surrender. Anger coursed through his veins at Steven’s utter brazenness, mixed with another heady emotion buried under the adrenaline. He felt nauseous.

Steven bit on his lower lip, voice low and wobbly as he released it. “I’m not trying to do anything except enjoy my meal. Okay?” The tenseness still remained in Andrew’s arm. “I swear, I won’t do anything at all. Promise. So,” he stole a glance around the room. “no making a scene.”

A beat too long; Steven was sure the other was about to shoot him right in the face and figure out a way to explain this to his higher-ups, going by Andrew’s deadpanned look. But the cop released his death grip on his gun and slumped into the flat cushions of the booth, eyes never leaving his.

“Talk,” he growled out, sending a shiver down Steven’s spine.

The criminal deflated and clasped his hands together, a small smile lighting up his face. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I wasn’t sure for a second there whether I’d get to live to eat this hotdog.”

“Well, you’re alive,” Andrew grabbed his drink and gulped it down. “So talk.”

Steven winced at the cold tone, clasping and unclasping his hands compulsively, and when he noticed Andrew clicking his tongue at it, quickly set both hands palm-down onto the table and began scratching lightly at its surface instead. “Um….” he started intelligently.

Andrew narrowed his eyes and made to get up.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

The blond slumped down grumpily, making his displeasure known further by another click of the tongue.

“Okay. So.” Steven clapped his hands together, pointing them forwards. Andrew stared steadily ahead with the same dead gaze; Steven was very uncomfortable. He took a breath before blurting “Ithinkyou’reaveryniceperson,” cheeks colouring with globs of pink.

Andrew raised an unimpressed brow. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Um. Well.” Steven scratched the junction between his long neck and his shoulder, an action Andrew’s gaze hooked on to. “I’d,… no, we’d. Okay no. Uh…” Steven was flailing all over the place; it was hard to believe that this person was a professional robber. He finally settled on lacing his fingers together and looked straight at Andrew. “I’d like you to understand why I’m doing this.”

_Why Steven, why?_

His own words were a haunting echo in his head, a tinge of mocking laughter. He had so many questions for Steven, but none of them seemed right, none enough to clear the mass of confusion swirling within him. What came out was “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why me?”

Steven, stumped for words, continued to stare at him. Andrew noticed the lip biting again, and the other’s fingers curling tighter and tighter like a spring. Steven cast his gaze away, brows furrowed at the bottle of sriracha, and underneath the half-broken lights Andrew saw that he had changed his hair colour from a pale gold to lavender. It suited him.

“Why not?” Those dark eyes were imploring.

Andrew sucked in a breath and willed his own hands to stay still, not reach out impulsively and card his fingers through a lavender field. “I’m not a nice person.”

“You are,” Steven cut in, looking more confident than he had all night. His dark eyes sucked Andrew in, two pools of the abyss. In a softer tone, “You are. I know you are.”

“No, you don’t,” Andrew’s almost-whisper around a self-deprecating smirk. “You don’t know me.”

Steven shrugged, both his shoulders coming up to his ears in a comical fashion, his jacket moving with it. “True,” he laughed lightly, gaze falling to the table again. He peeked at Andrew from under his hair, shy and hesitant, biting his lower lip. “Can I get to know you now?”

Andrew’s throat was dry as a desert, his heart pounding away without a care in the world. He gulped down the last dregs of his drink in a hurry, his appetite gone. Standing up abruptly, he saw panic flit across Steven’s face, then a solemn resignation. He had the intrusive thought that smiling fitted Steven much better.

Digging into his pocket, he slapped a few bills and some coins onto the table before shooting Steven a smirk that was more sure than he what he truly felt. “You can do that once I catch you.”

Watching Steven’s face morph from confusion to horror to delight was possibly the best thing that Andrew had ever seen. “Deal,” he said, smiling even wider. Scratch that, Steven’s _smile_ was the best thing Andrew had ever seen.

“Okay,” he drawled, still not trusting himself to do something like give Steven’s shoulder a pat lest his hand attached itself there. With one last look at the other, he turned on his heel to exit. “When I catch you,” he repeated.

He could have sworn he heard a whispered “ _You already have_ ,” but the wind liked to play tricks on one’s mind.

* * *

It went on in that vein. The alarm was sounded, a robbery by the Rabbits. They reached the sceneof the crime only to be taunted either by an emptied vault or the tail end of one of their members, usually Steven. Every time Andrew would give chase, and every time Steven would slip just out of his grasp, disappearing into the shadows. It was frustrating but exhilarating.

* * *

He received another gift, again found on his desk. Tearing open the unassuming brown packaging of a small, flat box, he wondered how did Steven manage to sneak something like this in here. Did he come here in a simple but effective disguise, hand delivering his message? Or did he have someone on the inside working for him?

The tie was a deep shade of Prussian blue and silky to the touch. It looked overly expensive for a piece of fabric worn around the neck. On it was a note that read _“Your shiny tiepin needs a non-fraying home. Blue looks good on you!”_ signed with the same scrawl. He tucked the note into his drawer and tossed his old tie into the bin.

* * *

Steven liked fish a lot. At least, that’s what Andrew gathered whenever they “accidentally” met up and pretended they didn’t know what the other did; save for the secret smiles they would exchange when the topic veered to the latest newspaper headlines.

“Oh really?” Steven would say airily, spearing his meal lightly and expertly with his fork, seemingly engrossed in it. “I had no idea.” Then he would look up from his lashes with a playful glint in his dark eyes, a quirk of his lips, and Andrew was only _human_ alright.

The Rabbits had gone quiet for a while now, possibly divvying up their loot, when Andrew bumped into Steven on a Thursday night at the corner near that hotdog truck. Before Steven could start with his obnoxiously (endearingly) giddy greeting of “Hey Andrew!”, the blond had latched onto his wrist and pulled a spluttering Steven in the opposite direction. Amidst the variously worded questions of where exactly Andrew was kidnapping him to, the blond only grinned toothily. “We’re going to get fish tacos.”

One of the best fish tacos in LA was in Holbox. Unorthodox placement considering it was a fine seafood restaurant next to a food court, but the taco there was so balanced and well-made, nothing could be said against it. Steven liked fish; so Andrew would give him fish.

Holbox delivered as expected, and Andrew relished in the delighted faces and noises Steven made as he wolfed down his first fish taco, then another. He looked like he was in food heaven, especially when they got to the wood-charred yellowtail, releasing low groans. Andrew blushed and was immediately thankful that the bar was packed with dinner guests; the din they made overrode any other sound. He wanted to bottle those delicious groans; he wanted to be the only one who heard them; he wanted to be the one who teased them out of Steven’s lips, tiny vibrations reverberating up his long neck and — _Stop it, stop thinking about it_. Busying himself, he folded up another taco and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing harshly on the slightly rubbery octopus.

Their dinner demolished; according to Steven it was “the best fish tacos and fish he ever had, 10/10 would come back again”; they fell into a comfortable silence, sipping the last of their drinks. It wasn’t that late, customers still flowed in and out of the doors, frowns transformed into looks of hunger as they smelled the enticing wafts of food. Tucked into a corner of the bar, Andrew was beginning to feel the creeping pull of food coma when Steven startled him awake with an insistent poke at his arm.

Steven’s eyes were glassy but bright; alert but wary. Andrew sat up slowly, body tensing for whatever Steven wanted to say next. Steven’s mouth opened and closed, a fish gaping out of the water, dark eyes darting all over Andrew’s face, searching for something. Andrew tried his best to relax his scrunched brows and tight shoulders; lessening his usually grumpy countenance. He looked down at Steven’s fidgeting hand, fingers scratching at the glazed wood, and snaked his own towards it, covering it with his own. Steven’s eyes widened but still floundered for the words.

“It’s okay Steven, you can tell me.” He turned Steven’s hand over and held it with both of his own, cradling it. He leaned forwards a little and tried to exude sincerity in his visage. Whatever Steven wanted to tell him, he could take it. Would take it. “You can tell me.”

Steven swallowed painfully, the lump in his throat, asphyxiating. He felt like crying, and indeed tears started to well up in his eyes, but he bit them back, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay. He was chewing on his bottom lip repeatedly. Andrew held onto his hand tighter. Finally, in what was nothing more than a haunting whisper, he forced out “I didn’t do it.” He took a long blink and looked at the other. “Andrew, I didn’t do it.”

Andrew answered immediately, “I know you didn’t, Steven.” He wasn’t sure at first, not before meeting Steven himself in person, but his nibbling doubts about the accident were proven when he conversed with Steven that first time over hotdogs.

“No, Andrew, you don’t understand, I—” He pulled his hand away and wrung his fingers together, agitated. He couldn’t stand to look at Andrew’s clear hazel eyes, didn’t feel he deserved it. “It wasn’t me,” it came out breathlessly. “It wasn’t us, not us, Andrew. We would never—” His voice was picking up in speed now. “She was just there! And even when we told them to stop, they didn’t. I ran to her, but it was too late, there was so much blood and she was so cold, and her eyes Andrew, they were so empty, I—” He didn’t know when he had caged his head between his arms, didn’t know when Andrew had wrapped his own around him, gently tracing circles on his back. “I never meant for this to happen,” he sobbed silently.

Andrew hummed, nuzzling the crown of Steven’s head as he held the latter tightly. He wanted to find that rival gang and make them hurt. Lock them away and watch with glee as the judge’s hammer came down, damning them all. How dare they commit such heinous crimes. How dare they hurt Steven this way. Steven was shaking, and Andrew felt his shoulder become damp. “You’re not a bad person, Steven,” he whispered into his hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Steven shook his head, still not looking up. “It was. It was. If we hadn’t been there, if we planned better, or if we were there a day earlier, none of this would have happened, lives wouldn’t have been lost, everything would—”

“If you hadn’t been there, it would’ve been worse,” Andrew growled fiercely, tightening his grip. “I don’t know who they are, but if they had no qualms shooting people, then you can bet that they would’ve killed everyone in that bank for the heck of it.” He nudged Steven so they faced each other, and thumbed the lingering tears from his eyes. “You protected them, Steven. You saved them.”

Coming clean, it felt like a refreshing stream washed away some of the grime and dirt he carried around with him like a cloak. Steven gave a watery smile, burying his head back down. “Thank you,” he whispered, an effusive happiness bubbling through his veins. “You know, people are gonna start talking if we hug any longer.”

Andrew let out an impatient click of the tongue and tightened his hold on Steven again. “Fuck what they think.”

* * *

“Something good happen?” Adam asked, eyes still on the screen of his computer. Andrew was turning over the tie in his hands, ignoring the piles of work on his desk. At the question, he raised a confused brow. “You look happy. Happier,” Adam clarified, pausing. “It’s not like you.”

Andrew immediately checked the slight, fond smile he was wearing into a neutral frown, deadpanning “No, I don’t.”

Adam bobbed his head a little. “Yes, you do.”

“No Adam,” to make a point, he stole a carrot stick from his friend’s lunch box. “I don’t.”

The other officer shrugged, a smirk resting on his face. “Believe what you want, Ilnyckyj. You’re fooling no one.”

Andrew allowed himself a disgruntled huff and aimed for another of the carrot sticks before having his hand swatted away painfully by its owner. “Ow! Sharing is caring Adam,” he whined in his most annoying voice.

Adam rolled his eyes at the screen, fingers still typing away, only pausing to grab a carrot stick for himself. “Mine,” he munched possessively.

“Stingy.”

“This lunch box was made with love. For me, not you,” he punctuated with a hard tap on the space bar.

“Speaking of which, when are you gonna let us meet her?” It had been almost two years, but Adam never told anyone about who he was currently seeing, and no one had been able to find out. When Adam Bianchi wanted to keep a secret; he would keep the secret.

Said officer tilted his head like a cat at Andrew and shrugged before turning back to whatever it was he was typing so furiously on. “Someday.”

“ _Someday_ ,” Andrew repeated mockingly, throwing his head back and letting it hang from the back of his chair. “Classic Bianchi. Avoiding commitment.”

Adam threw a carrot stick into his face for that, but something caught Andrew’s eye as he swayed upside-down in his ratty swivel chair. He straightened up and hollered to Ryan who was passing by with a much-needed cup of coffee in his hands, beckoning him over. “Where did you get that?” he asked, even before Ryan came to a stop. He pointed to the little Snoopy plush with what looked like a custom ghost costume which made up the new addition on his desk.

Ryan’s grip on the coffee cup almost slackened completely, colour crawling up into his cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears in a red bright enough to be obvious on his tan skin. When he spoke, his voice was pitched higher and more strangled than usual, “A friend.”

Andrew quirked a brow and threw him a knowing smirk. “Just a _friend_ , Bergara?” he teased, settling the most lecherous look on his face as humanly possible.

“Oh shut up, Pot.” Ryan bit out, ears becoming even redder. “As if you haven’t been mooning around the place.”

Andrew’s smirk dropped into a forced frown. “I haven’t, Kettle. Or have your eyes gone bad?”

“You have,” piped Adam in an irritatingly sweet sing-song voice. “Or more accurately, you’ve both been acting like lovesick idiots for a while now.”

“We haven’t!” they both exclaimed in indignant tones simultaneously, eliciting a sharp bark of laughter from Adam and curious looks from their other coworkers. Ryan grumbled something about nosy friends and marched back to his desk while Andrew pointedly began shuffling papers. If hesmiled to himself at Ryan booping the nose of his Snoopy plush from the corner of his eye, no one has to know.

* * *

The last time, Steven had asked him to wear something nice next round while he was running away from him, performing seamless parkour in the alley between the recently robbed bank and a block of lawyer’s offices. The robber cleared the towering trash cans and jumped up the brick wall effortlessly, shooting him a bright smile and blowing him a kiss, before disappearing from his sight.

Andrew had cast a scrutinising glare over all of the articles of clothing he owned for hours before settling on a blue shirt and dark grey slacks. Just before he grabbed his keys, he slipped on the Prussian blue silk tie and clipped on the tiepin. Rounding the corner at the hotdog place, he came to an abrupt stop when his eyes landed on Steven. He was dressed smartly in a striped shirt, a dark blue blazer which broadened his shoulders and white chinos which hugged his long legs _very_ well. Andrew swallowed. Save for his admittedly ugly brown shoes, Steven was perfect.

“So where are we going?” he said in lieu of a greeting. Steven looked up from his phone, and Andrew could pinpoint the exact moment Steven saw the tie and the tiepin, because his face flared up into the nicest shade of pink.

Steven cleared his throat noisily and Andrew mentally patted himself on the back. After his nonexistent coughing fit, Steven loudly exclaimed: “We’re going for brunch!”

“Brunch?”

Steven put his hands up placatingly, eyebrows raised into his hairline. “I know what you’re thinking, but I think brunch is like, the ultimate way to win someone’s heart.”

Andrew creased his brows fondly and smacked Steven on the arm, eliciting nervous giggles from the taller man. “How cheesy can you even get?”

“I’m not _that_ cheesy,” he shot back, still blushing. Steven smiled endearingly at Andrew, making his heart flutter like a hummingbird. “Andrew Ilnyckyj, will you go to brunch with me?”

The corner of Andrew’s lips quirked up into a teasing lilt. “Just brunch? Why not Brinner? Or Brupper?”

“Oh god, that was so bad,” laughed Steven, hiding his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. “Ugh, that was horrible, Andrew,” came his muffled groan.

Laughing along with him, Andrew pried his hands away and held onto them. “Sure Steven, I’ll go to brunch with you,” he crooned, relishing in Steven’s sputters and blushes.

All in all, it was a very good time. There was a free-flow of champagne and tons of fancy food which they gorged themselves on while laughing all the while. Andrew may have also discovered his new hobby in serving and feeding Steven. _Oral fixation_ , came Adam’s annoyingly calm voice in his head, and he batted it away. So he liked taking care of people he loved, was that so bad? His ex used to love it whenever he did something for her, before she got tired of his long shifts and obsessive commitment to his work and left.

_Wait, what?_ He back-pedalled furiously through his thoughts, only vaguely recognising Steven’s bubbling laugh as he wiped pink frosting off his nose.

He was in love with Steven Lim.

Somehow, the thought wasn’t as damning as he thought it would be; more like an acknowledgement of something that had already taken root a long time ago. He prodded carefully around the edges of his mind to check for any doubts or bouts of panic but there were none. Just a warmth at the pit of his stomach and a slight ache in his cheeks from smiling too long. He was in love with Steven, and it felt right.

* * *

Something went wrong with their latest heist, Andrew knew when he arrived at the scene. There were more officers than usual, and a group of people were clustered around one spot, frantically pushing each other. Knowing that it was useless to ask anyone around for any coherent information, Andrew made a beeline for the buzzing group and pushed his way to the front.

Blood.

He was pretty sure by the excitement of the officers around him that it didn’t belong to a cop, but a criminal. The rusty red pool of blood was beginning to congeal around the edges, giving it a jelly-like appearance which reminded him of the jelly doughnut he had this morning; and he tamped down the urge to hurl all over the evidence. His breath came out in short spurts and he pushed his way back out of the group, hands on his knees as he tried to regulate his oxygen intake, hoping to god that the blood didn’t belong to Steven. With the amount on the ground, the wound must have been quite severe; a shot in the stomach maybe, if the person still managed to escape. _Or the head_ , his mind helpfully supplied, and he couldn’t breathe again. He spun around manically, scanning the crowd for any sight of a body bag or an ambulance, but there was none.

Instead, he saw Ryan slumped against the wall of the half-emptied bank, hands still tightly gripped around his gun. Andrew jogged to him, calling out his name; and was shocked by the sight that greeted him. Ryan Bergara was a strong man. He had shot criminals before, so it made no sense for him to have that haunted look in his eyes, as if he had made a terrible mistake. His face was pallid and his jaw was slack, not acknowledging Andrew in any way.

Andrew crouched down next to him, hand on his shoulder, checking on autopilot for any injuries Ryan may have sustained. “Ryan, are you okay?” When he was met with dazed eyes and silence, he tried again, shaking his coworker a bit to snap him out of it. “Ryan,” he stressed, urging the beaten-down cop to tell him something; anything.

Ryan licked his parched lips before speaking in a hollow voice. “I shot him.”

“Shot who, Ryan?” Andrew felt his own hands tightening around Ryan’s shoulders. He needed to know. “Whose blood was that?”

The other shook his head slowly and dismally, eyes unseeing. “I don’t know.” He paused as if in recollection. “We caught them in the act Andrew, we did. There was something off, I don’t know what. There were more of them this time and some of them were holding hostages and—” He cut himself off abruptly with a choked sob. “There was a ruckus from the back, and everyone turned to look. But then this jackass,” he gritted out, a fire burning behind his orbs, “was going to shoot someone, and they started fighting internally. We got involved too, and I don’t know who started shooting first but…” He dropped his gun and clenched his hands on his knees, tilting his head back with eyes screwed shut. His admission came out like a confessional, “I shot one of them Andrew. A tall dude. I shot him right in the abdomen.”

Andrew’s own heart was doing somersaults in his ribcage, and he couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. _A tall dude._ Steven was pretty tall. Even if he wasn’t shot by Ryan, _Ryan who didn’t know_ , he had to remind himself through the worried haze, it was chaos. Steven could’ve been shot or injured by anyone.

He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening above. _Please. I’m begging you, please keep him safe._

* * *

The swabbed blood came back with DNA results. It belonged to man named Shane Madej. He had worked at a media company a few years prior, but was fired due to not seeing eye-to-eye with his bosses and being a “disruptive” employee. His old picture from the company was printed and pinned on the board next to Steven’s. Other than these two, one of the criminal’s masks had come off during the scuffle, and an officer had given her facial descriptions. They matched it to a woman named Annie Jeong, and her picture too went up onto the board.

The robbery itself was less refined than usual. The increase in the number of people was also accounted for, when the cops unearthed the fact that it wasn’t the heist of one gang, but three. Other than the Rabbits, there were two others; one led by the local Italian troublemakers, and the other was identified as a gang from New York. As to why they were here in LA, no one knew why.

Andrew could feel the anticipation coiled up like a spring ready to pounce amongst his coworkers. The lieutenant was overjoyed. They were getting closer and closer to arresting these thieves once and for all. He knew he should’ve felt happier, seeing as the injustice would be stopped, but all he could think about was Steven.

Staring up at the board at Steven’s picture, he still thought that he didn’t belong up there on the wanted list. He didn’t think anyone from the Rabbits looked liked they did. Both Shane and Annie were just as kind as Steven looked; and while looks can be deceiving, Andrew’s gut was adamant in defending them. Beside him, Ryan was scrubbing his face lethargically, while the area around Adam’s eyes had gone tight.

* * *

He wasn’t all that surprised when he found Steven sitting with his head in his folded hands atop his kitchen table some nights later. Careful not to startle the other, he dumped his backpack near the sofa and went straight to work in the kitchen. He had some chicken broth leftover, and some vegetables from his last grocery run, so he decided to make the most comforting food he knew: borscht. He sliced and diced the beets, potatoes, carrots and celeries; falling into a familiar and easy rhythm while keeping an eye on Steven who had not moved. He poured some olive oil into a hob and sautéed the beets, sprinkled them with some pepper for seasoning, then added the broth and a few cups of water. He gave it a couple of good stirs until the soup was dyed in a faint purplish hue; added the rest of the vegetables and three bay leaves. Some more pepper and some salt; then popping the lid on for it to simmer.

Steven was statuesque. Andrew swallowed his worried queries by knocking back a can of beer from the fridge, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. The borscht was bubbling over. Andrew turned away from Steven and focused on it instead, tasting it before adding two tablespoons of vinegar and stirring it evenly in the pot. He heard the shifting of clothing and the scrape of a chair on the floor before Steven came to wrap his arms around him, his cheek wet against Andrew’s neck. He combed through Steven’s hair several times before gently nudging him away, serving up the borscht at the small kitchen table.

“Eat.” He gestured to the second bowl. “We can talk after. I promise.”

Like a doll on string, Steven nodded consent easily. He dug his spoon into the soup with little enthusiasm, but with every spoon of borscht he ate, Andrew could see the blanket of dreariness slowly lift from his shoulders.

* * *

“We didn’t have a choice. The gang from New York is powerful, Andrew, and they had something we didn’t, which is a shit ton of guns,” narrated Steven moodily. His head was on Andrew’s lap, facing his stomach. They had both gravitated towards the sofa after their small meal, and Andrew couldn’t resist carding his fingers through Steven’s lavender hair with one hand, while the other rubbed up and down his arm in a comforting gesture.

“They planned the heist, and it was so stupid. There wasn’t any real need to take hostages except to taunt the cops, and they wanted that. They wanted to show how great they were.” Steven picked at a stray thread on Andrew’s old T-shirt compulsively. What he said next came out so resigned, it broke Andrew’s heart. “It’s hard to say no when they have guns pointed to the heads of your friends.”

Andrew scooped him up into a sitting position and enveloped him into a tight hug, cradling his head. “You did the best you could, Steven.” Steven shook his head, but Andrew repeated it, as if doing so would erase the horrible reality. “I’m just so glad you’re safe,” he said fiercely into his hair, latching on to the other. Steven trembled and hugged back just as tightly; they rocked a little on the sofa.

After a while of just basking in each other’s warmth, Steven admitted “I was so scared. I was scared for Shane, and I was scared because I couldn’t see you anywhere.” His fingers curled into the back of Andrew’s T-shirt, clawing. Andrew shushed him lowly, running his hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him. “I’m here, I’m here. We’re safe, Steven. We’re safe,” came out as a mantra of protection.

Steven clung harder, his blunt nails digging in painfully. He turned his head to nuzzle Andrew’s cheek, and when the latter didn’t pull away, he released his grip slightly to pull back and look into hazel eyes. “Andrew,” he started, teeth playing with his lower lip, and Andrew couldn’t find it in him to not track the movement hungrily. “I like you, Andrew. I like you a lot.” His voice was so soft it was almost lost into the seeping darkness of night, but it was heard. Andrew grinned broadly, his heart and stomach doing elated flips as he watched the colour brighten in the apples of Steven’s cheeks. From this close, he could see every little mole on Steven’s neck, could see the oozing brightness in his dark eyes, could feel the other’s breath skimming across his face. “I like you too, Steven. I like you a lot,” he confessed with a huff of laughter, sure that he was crying a little.

Steven’s hands came to cup at his cheeks, thumbs tracing his cheekbones softly, reverently. He was smiling like a lovelorn idiot. “I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he giggled nervously, eyes full of molten warmth. “Can I?”

Andrew lunged forward to press a chaste kiss to the redness in Steven’s cheek, eliciting more giggles and a smack on his shoulder from the other. “I thought you’d never ask,” he mumbled into the plump flesh, before sliding his lips to Steven’s own. After months of torture he finally, _finally_ , managed to sink his teeth into that teasing bottom lip of Steven’s, spine tingling at Steven’s low moan. He licked over it once as a brief apology before fully plunging into Steven’s mouth, tongue dancing across the backs his teeth and swirling against Steven’s own. He could feel Steven’s hands grappling at the back of his head, but it was a dull sensation compared to what he was doing with his tongue and lips and oh, there are his teeth.

When they resurfaced for air, they were both looking properly debauched, shirts rumpled, hair a mess and lips shiny and wet. Steven pressed his forehead against Andrew’s and kissed the corner of his eye, and Andrew returned the favour by kissing his jaw. Their lips met again for another kiss, and Andrew mumbled “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” into Steven’s mouth, making the other burst into a fit of giggles. “Same here.” Steven pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his forehead and the tip of his nose. “Ever since I saw you on that glass bridge.”

Andrew nipped at Steven’s ear, past caring how red his own face must have been. “Really now?” he teased, blowing air across the ear and loving how it made Steven shiver.

“Yeah,” Steven whispered, hands bunching up at the edge of Andrew’s T-shirt as he was pushed to slide down onto the sofa. “You literally took my breath away. Never saw someone as handsome as you before.” Andrew worked on his jaw, kissing and nipping. “Keep going,” he said playfully, earning another light smack from the man underneath him.

“For the record,” Andrew confessed as he reached Steven’s neck, breathing on it and feeling its owner tense up in anticipation. “I thought you were fucking beautiful. Your hair was like a halo around you.” Steven laughed, a bright and warm sound which Andrew wanted to hear forever. He pulled Andrew up and gave him another kiss, entangling their tongues. “So you think I’m pretty, is that it?” he panted, flushed with a giddy happiness.

“Got a problem with that, Lim?”

“No problem, Ilnyckyj. No problem.”

* * *

Andrew was kind of glad he didn’t go through with the plan to buy blackout curtains for his bedroom, because the sight of Steven asleep was something he’d like to see everyday of his life. Steven was curled up on his side like a cat, blanket tucked right up to his chin. His lavender hair shone in the thin rays of morning light, and Andrew carded his fingers through them, careful not to wake Steven up. He looked like an angel, not the criminal that every cop in the city was hunting for.

Gently, he rolled out of bed and Steven whined at the loss of contact. Andrew lifted his sleep-heavy limbs around a pillow, and Steven latched onto it, nuzzling into the bed further with a snort that amused Andrew to no end. His heart was so full it felt like it was about to burst.

For the past few weeks when he came back from work, Steven was always there, waiting for him at the same spot he sat in the first time. He would be drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, glaring at his watch; only to pounce on Andrew once he entered the kitchen. It made Andrew so fucking happy.

As he laid out breakfast for them, blueberry pancakes drizzled with maple syrup, with a dollop of whipped cream on Steven’s; he could hear the other grumbling as he got up, and smiled to himself. Steven stepped into the kitchen yawning widely with the blanket still clutched around his shoulders and his hair fit for the audition of a bird’s nest. It was adorable. They traded morning kisses (“No, Andrew, my breath stinks!” “Who asked you not to brush your teeth then?”) and ate their breakfast with their feet entwined beneath the table; Steven gushing about how good Andrew’s cooking was until the blond’s face turned beet red from the praise, and rewarded Steven with kisses on his cheeks and neck.

It was domestic, and sappy, but they loved it. Inside of Andrew’s apartment, they created their own little haven away from the world; a place where what they were didn’t matter to anyone but them.

“Andrew,” Steven beckoned as he was clearing away the plates. He dumped them in the sink, and wiped his hands on his sweats before bending down to give Steven a peck on the lips. The taller man reciprocated beneath him, hands coming up to wind themselves around Andrew’s arms. “Andrew,” he groaned in between kisses, “Andrew, wait.”

“Why?” He couldn’t get enough of Steven. His little sighs of pleasure, his lithe neck, his dark eyes. But Steven was insistent that he stop so he did, looking into a mirror of wet lips and flushed cheeks. Steven smiled a little ruefully before nudging Andrew to sit in the other chair. There was a tension in the air, but Steven had become more comfortable in speaking his mind around Andrew, so it didn’t take too long.

“Andrew, I’ve got another job.”

The blond’s eyes narrowed. He hid his clenched fists underneath the table and tried to steady his voice, not wanting the lick of anger to cloud his brain. But it came out harsher than he expected. “Robbing another bank?”

Steven visibly winced at the tone, his voice growing softer. “Yeah, another one.” He picked at invisible lint on the cuff of his sleeves, not looking at Andrew. “I have to, Andrew.”

“No, you don’t,” he bit, frustration and fear coming up in waves. “You’re putting yourself in danger again.”

“I know, but it’s just the Rabbits this time.” Steven shot him a tentative and playful smile. “And we’ve always done a good job, you of all people should know.”

“I do, but that’s not the point Steven.”

Steven’s brows creased, hand stretching out for Andrew’s across the table. “Andrew,” he implored, “I’m going to be fine. We’re helping people who are overlooked by the system.”

He knew this, he has heard of this before, but it didn’t mean that he had to agree with it. “You’re not helping Steven, you’re breaking the law.” Steven pulled his hand back, gearing himself up for the argument that was about to follow. “This isn’t justice, it’s robbery. You’re playing Robin Hood, and sure, you may help some people in the short-term; but it’s not going to last. It’s unsustainable, and you know it as well as I do.”

“Can we not,” Steven sighed, “can we not talk about this please?”

Andrew’s heart felt suffocated. “Look, Steven. Would you please look at me?” Steven hesitantly did. “This isn’t justice.”

“Oh! You—!” Steven made a strangled sound and tossed his hands up into the air. He shifted in his seat to face Andrew fully, knees knocking against his, a fire in his eyes. “These people need our help. They are dying, Andrew. They are dying from lack of really basic human needs. They have unwanted children, they starve, they don’t have homes to return to.” He punctuated each point with a stab on the table.

Andrew crossed his arms, his irritation boiling. “And how long can you keep this up? A year more? Ten? Or until you get caught and they throw you in the slammer for life?”

“I’ll do it for as long as I can!” Steven exclaimed, shoving his hands into his hair and messing it up further. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch them suffer all because of a faulty system!”

“What, and go to jail when you’re caught? Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your lifein there?”

“Of course not, but I won’t get caught,” Steven said with resolution.

Andrew scoffed and got up, heading into the living room. “Won’t get caught, sure Steven, you keep telling yourself that.” His anger getting the better of him, he turned around with a loose tongue. “You know, one day you’ll get caught. Just admit it Steven. One day you’ll end up in jail, and you won’t be able to come back out.”

Steven too was standing up, and was making his way towards Andrew. “Then what would you have me do?” He came to a stop an arm’s length away, and Andrew desperately wanted to reach out andpull him into a hug, but held his ground. “What do you want me to do, Andrew?”

He licked his lips, noting the way Steven’s eyes lingered, but was too keyed up to care. He had thought about this for a while, and could only see one viable solution. “You could turn yourself in.”

Steven gaped at him. There were a few moments of silence where they both stood so still, it was as if time had stopped just for them. Then, it moved again, and Andrew could see the anger coursing through Steven’s body from his toes to the tips of his hair. “Unbelievable!” he started off with a whisper, until he reached a crescendo. “Un-fucking-believable!” He crossed the space between them swiftly and jabbed a finger into Andrew’s chest, the other daring him to do it again. “You’re so— ugh!” Steven spun around, away from the source of his current ire.

“I’m so what, huh, Steven? Why don’t you just say it out loud?”

“You know what happens if I turn myself in Andrew! You know!” he shouted, face blotched in red. There was pain shown on every part of his body, and Andrew couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Steven’s arms, caging him in. “Listen to me, Steven. Listen.” He needed Steven to understand.“You’ll get a lighter sentence, you’ll only have to be there for a few years with parole, and when you get out,” he swallowed heavily, desperately searching Steven’s eyes. Steven struggled to get out of his grip, but Andrew held on. “When you get out, I’ll be waiting for you, okay? Then we can help these people together, the right way.”

“Fuck. You.” he spat, pushing away Andrew’s hands and walking backwards until his legs hit the sofa. They were both panting hard, wired up. Steven tugged on his long sleeves, a decision he knew had to be made settling itself like a rock in his chest. “You know I can’t do that Andrew,” he spoke hoarsely.

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and placed his hands on his hips. He looked at Steven, knowing deep down that they’ve crossed the delicate line that held whatever semblance of a relationship they had together. “So, is that it?” he asked, his own voice coming out broken.

Steven shuffled his feet, looking at the floor. “You could come with me instead.”

“What?” laughed Andrew sarcastically. “And be a criminal, like you?”

“Yeah,” Steven’s voice was stronger now, a hint of danger mixed in. “A criminal, like me.”

Andrew clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Well, that makes two of us then.”

* * *

Steven had been gone for months. In those months, the activities of the Rabbits had also increased; not in LA, but in the other states. They hit Ohio and Chicago again, with new cases in New Jersey and Illinois.

Andrew munched unhappily on a slice of dry bread that came from the loaf he had been working on all week. He had no appetite. Neither did Ryan it seemed, who when asked where the Snoopy on his desk went, just shrugged. Adam was the only one unchanged, if one didn’t know him that well. These days, he talked less, an alarming signal to the distress he was feeling.

Around them, the department was buzzing with activity.

* * *

The shrill ringing of his cellphone slices through the hazy images of the Steven in his dreams. In that world at least, he could still take the other’s hand and place reverent kisses on each knuckle, could still enjoy the sound of the other’s bright laugh. At least there was hope then. He cursed at the air as he read the caller ID blearily, _Adam_ , and greeted him with a tired “What.”

Silence save for the sounds of harsh breathing. Adrenaline pumped into his veins and his heart froze over. Andrew sat up fully, already imagining the worst case scenario of Adam bleeding out in a cold concrete room somewhere and it would be too late to save him. “Adam? Adam what’s going on?” Even to his own ears his voice sounded panicked.

On the other end, Adam sighed heavily into his phone, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Andrew, they turned themselves in.”

His hand tightened on his phone so hard, it almost slipped out of it. A chorus of _Steven, Steven, Steven_ began playing in his head, overwhelming everything else. He didn’t hear Adam calling for his name over the phone the first few times. “When?” he croaked, already feeling like gravity had abandoned him.

“About half an hour ago,” Adam replied as steadily as possible, betraying nothing in his voice. “The lieutenant is still with them.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Steven looked haggard and exhausted. Shane who was seated some distance away from him too looked on the verge of collapse.The lieutenant had both their arms and legs chained and was personally delivering a great lecture on the systems of justice and how the Rabbits deserved what they had coming for them. Andrew watched with fists balled up in his crossed arms through the one-way glass. Ryan who sat in a chair beside wasn’t doing much better, his knuckles having already turned white on the armrests. It had been eight hours of non-stop interrogation from the cops. The criminals were not allowed a drink or a wink of sleep, only to answer whatever questions were thrown at them under the glare of the harsh white lights.

From here, Andrew could see the sweat glistening on Steven’s neck, the heavy bags under his eyes, the small crack in his lip from it being too dry. His first impulse was to barge into the room and deck the lieutenant before freeing both Steven and Shane, but he reigned it in, suppressing his molten rage underneath his perfected stone facade.

After another thirty minutes of what was basically gloating, the lieutenant marched triumphantly out of the room, shouting of joy the whole way. Steven’s head slumped forward in exhaustion just as the door closed, and Andrew had to dig his nails into his arms lest he acted on the urge to run in there and cradle him. The lieutenant burst in, laughing. Ryan got to his feet slowly, every fibre of his being seething with rage.

“Well boys!” he exclaimed full of mirth, coming around to clap their shoulders. Andrew wanted to throw his hand off and knock his teeth out. “They’re all yours now!” Another pat on the back. “I’m going to go celebrate and tell my wife! We finally got these little shits in the bag!” Saying so, he delivered one last hard hit on the back to both Andrew and Ryan, leaving the door open on his way out. His booming voice trailed into every corner of the department. “Drinks are on me tonight you idiots!” he proudly declared, to the loud waves of cheers from every other cop. Andrew heard the lieutenant lead them out in a flurry of coats and stomping footsteps, drunk already from a victory they did not personally achieve. They were headed to the bar a few blocks away from here, he was sure.

As the last of the voices died down, he chanced a look at Ryan who was already looking back. “So,” he began as Ryan started with “Hey Andrew,”. They had a brief contest of who would be more polite to allow the other to speak first, when Andrew just blurted “So, Shane huh?” Ryan blushed instantaneously, so fast and red that Andrew irrationally feared that he was going to combust on the spot. He stammered a little, false starts, not knowing _where_ to start, then settled for a firm nod. Andrew smiled.

“You and Steven?” Ryan asked, jabbing his thumb towards said person behind the glass.

It reminded Andrew of the very first time they had seen each other, through panes of glass, and his heart ached. He looked at Steven now, wondering what they were, if they were anything. “I hope," he admitted to Ryan, eyes never leaving Steven.

* * *

They had agreed to bring the poor prisoners some coffee as a start. Ryan asked Andrew about how it started, and vice-versa. They gave each other very brief accounts of what had happened, and didn’t judge.

“And you shot Shane? Wow, Bergara,” teased Andrew as they made their way back to the questioning room. “didn’t know you were a sadist.”

“If I wasn’t holding two cups of coffee right now, Steven may have to reunite with a bloody pulp,” he bit out, putting on his best threatening glare.

Andrew chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. Who’d have thunk, that the two cops put on this case would fall maddeningly in love with two criminals from the gang they were hunting. The scenario only existed in fiction. “Whatever you say Bergara,” he toasted his own coffee cup in his direction, eliciting a scowl from the other.

“Guys,” came a soft but steady voice.

They turned around to see Adam standing right behind them, keys in hand and a grim expression fixed on his face. “I have something to ask you.”

Andrew saw Ryan’s brows crease and shoulders tense; he knew he was doing the same. He had a feeling that Adam knew a lot more than he let on, and decided to take a leap of faith. “Does it have to do with Steven and Shane?”

Adam nodded tightly and sighed, tired. “Look, I know what’s going on,” he began to explain. “I’ve known since the beginning. Ah — don’t interrupt me,” he pointed a finger to Ryan who was already asking questions. “We don’t have a lot of time and we don’t have a lot of choices. Right now, all the cameras in the department have been frozen. The last thing they saw was you both going to get coffee. Now,” he jingled the keys in his hands. “you can choose to help me or not.”

Ryan raised a coffee cup and drawled. “Can I speak now?”

“Please.”

“How the fuck did you do anything to the cameras? You’ve been in the office the whole time!”

Adam grinned widely, his white teeth visible in his beard. “Annie is a really skilled hacker.”

Ryan stomped his foot on the ground as Andrew felt his jaw drop. “I fucking knew it!” “What the fuck?” they both said simultaneously, Ryan the former and Andrew the latter. Adam just shooed them forward. “How did you think they gave you gifts? Right on your desks in full view of the department no less.” Ryan crowed with delight and Andrew could only stare open-mouthed at him. It should’ve been obvious, Adam was his best friend. But apparently, he knew nothing of the world.

_I know nothing. Huh._

When they practically kicked the door down, Steven’s head snapped up like a deer in the headlights while Shane eyed them warily. Ryan made a beeline for the latter, greeting him with a soft “Hey there, big guy,” which Shane responded with “Hey yourself, little guy.” Steven was staring at Andrew in apprehension and dread, but Andrew still wanted to kiss him and never let go. He hovered over Steven momentarily before dropping down into the seat opposite him.

Adam jingled the keys again and tossed the respective keys to Ryan and Andrew. “No time for couples counselling, we gotta go.” Ryan set to work with fumbling hands immediately, and when Shane was freed the taller man swept him up into a tight hug, lifting him off the floor and producing from him an indignant squawk. Shane laughed joyously, nuzzling Ryan’s neck.

“Why are you doing this?” Steven asked as Andrew unlocked the chains on his feet and worked on the ones on his wrists. They fell away with a metallic clang, and Steven rubbed his wrists tenderly. There were faint red lines on the pale skin, and Andrew reached out to soothe them but Steven pulled away hastily like a hurt animal. He squinted his eyes at Andrew. “Why?”

“Come on guys, let’s go,” called Adam from the doorway, head swivelling between his watch and the lifts. Shane lowered Ryan gently and dragged him by the hand forwards. Andrew couldn’t find an answer good enough. He swallowed the word vomit coming up his throat and hoped to god that Steven would accept it; accept him.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Steven pushed himself up forcefully with a frown, but overbalanced. Andrew caught him around the waist and they ended up in a gangly tangle of limbs, faces close to each other. Andrew could feel the harsh rhythm of Steven’s pulse beating erratically throughout his body; or that was his own. “And what is the _right thing_ , Andrew?”

Andrew laced his fingers with Steven’s own, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles like he dreamt of doing. He felt Steven stiffen and was prepared for his rejection, but he had to get this out. “It’s being with you, Steven. Only you.”

They held their positions, Andrew not daring to look at anything except Steven’s hand, memorising each ridge, the way it felt in his own. It could be the last time he had the chance to hold it after all. At last, Steven let out a huff of air. “You sure about that?”

When he met that pair of dark eyes he loved so much, he felt warmth oozing into every pore of his being. “Yeah,” he grinned madly, “I’m sure.”

All at once, Steven’s fragile defences came crashing down and he enveloped Andrew into a fierce hug. Andrew reciprocated in kind, hugging onto Steven as if he were his lifeline, which was mostly true. He didn’t know how he had managed to survive those bleak months without Steven. He didn’t understand how he could’ve asked Steven to turn himself in and serve his sentence for years. “I missed you,” he whispered into his ear and pressed a kiss into Steven’s hair. “I missed you _so_ much.” Steven’s laugh was cracked with a sob. “I missed you too. So, so much.”

“Guys! Come on!” The novelty of Adam shouting was just enough to pull the pair away from each other. He herded them out the door and towards the stairwell where Shane and Ryan were waiting with clasped hands. Adam typed something into his phone and led the way down, with Shane and Ryan next, then Andrew and Steven who brought up the rear. The rusted door on the ground floor creaked loudly as Adam opened it, and pointed to a grey van with the name of a cleaning company on the side of it. “There! Come on losers. We’re getting out of here.”

Shane and Ryan clambered in first, then Andrew and Steven. Adam swung the door shut behind them with a finality that Andrew was glad of. “Guys, meet Andrew and Ryan,” Andrew pointed. “Andrew and Ryan, meet Keith and Becky up front, and Annie at the back.” Keith and Becky gave spirited greetings as Keith drove them out of the compounds, weaving seamlessly through traffic. Annie’s casual “Yo,” was muffled by Adam giving her a quick peck on the lips.

Becky turned around in her seat to face them with a dazzling smile. “Just sit tight for now, okay? Zach and Eugene are already at the docks, while Jen and Curly have your change of clothes.”

Andrew nodded dumbly at the pace of things, but Steven let out a huge breath of relief. “Thank you so much, guys. We owe you one.”

“Oh please,” Keith piped up from the driver’s seat. “family remember? Don’t need to thank us.”

“So all of you are in the Rabbits?” asked a mildly confused Ryan, the gears turning in his head so hard it was visible to everyone else. Becky trilled a laugh while Annie hid hers behind her hand. Adam just shook his head in defeat. “You got it, little guy,” Shane said fondly as he ruffled Ryan’s hair, much to his displeasure. Ryan pushed his hands away. “So where are we going?”

Before anyone else could answer, Andrew cut in with a “Does it matter?” dryly and factually, earning a slow spreading smile from Steven. He laced their fingers together and gave him a deep kiss, feeling the stretch of his smile and the small vibrations of his laughter. Steven bumped their foreheads together. “I guess not.”

“Get a room you two!”

* * *

_So give me all you've got_

_I can take it_

_We walked around in your city lights_

_'Cause it makes me who I am_

_We lit the fire_

_And it's burning bright_

_Not ashamed of what I am_

_I'd trade the world for your city nights_

_'Cause it makes me who I am_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading till the end! <3 
> 
> Comments and critiques are always welcome. 
> 
> If anyone would like to take up the Shane/Ryan side of this story, please send me a link too! Would love to read your work!


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